


snow in april

by orphan_account



Series: checkmate [2]
Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:58:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9510662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “It isn’t normal, Elena. These… hunches he has… It’s just not right.”“Oh hush,” his mother hisses back. “He’s just upstairs, he’ll hear you!”She’s right; Svlad can hear every word.-Set before 'cheating at chess', the life Svlad knew before leaving England. (Can be read alone)





	

“It isn’t _normal_ , Elena. These… hunches he has… It’s just not right.”

“Oh hush,” his mother hisses back. “He’s just upstairs, he’ll hear you!”

She’s right; Svlad can hear every word from where he’s perched on the staircase, knees pulled to his chest. His parents don’t row often, but in these past few months, it has been more frequent. He knows it’s got something to do with the strange dreams he has.

It’s not his fault. Svlad doesn’t want the dreams. But they come to him anyway, no matter how hard he tries, no matter what he does. Every night, without fail, visions of the next day flash in front of his eyes. Sometimes mundane ones, like the time he was able to predict six songs on the radio in a row. Sometimes, he sees more important things; this morning, Svlad informs his father not to drive down Blackhurst Lane when he goes to work, because there was going to be a bus crash there around 9.26am.

The 11 o’clock news on the wireless tells of four fatalities.

In the kitchen, Svlad’s father is pacing. Svlad can tell; twelve heavy footsteps, a pause, then another twelve. It’s been going on for an hour now.

“I’ve been doing some research. There’s a man in America, a specialist on this sort of thing. Odd premonitions, strange visions – everything our boy has. Riggins, his name is. I sent him a letter, a while back – after the incident with next-door’s Alsatian – and he replied yesterday. Says they’re running a project for children like Svlad, and they’d be interested in taking a look.”

“Taking a look?!” Svlad flinches; his mother’s voice is shrill, and it sends a shiver down his spine. He becomes aware of a heaviness in his stomach, like somebody has poured a bag of sand down his throat and forced him to swallow. “He’s a _child_ , David, not a bloody zoo animal! How does he expect to take a look anyway, hmm? Going to send him a Polaroid snap and hope for the best, are you?”

The pacing stops. Svlad tenses.

“Of course I’m not. I’d have to take him over there. It won’t be cheap-“

“Yes, because that’s our only concern!”

“- but this Riggins fellow says he can reimburse us. Said it will only take a few days, and he’ll put us up in a hotel for the time being – Oh, Ellie, don’t be like that… Don’t cry-“

Svlad doesn’t need his father’s words to know what’s happening now. He can hear his mother’s sobbing even from here. Guilt overcomes him, and he scrambles to stand, near-sprinting back to his bedroom, and curling tight underneath his blankets.

They smell of rosewater. He wonders in the blankets in their American hotel will smell of roses, or if they will be something new.

Svlad isn’t sure that he wants to find out.

* * *

His mother comes upstairs before her husband. Svlad expects his father will be doing a little more ‘research’ – or having a can of beer and listening to his sadder records.

The child buried beneath the woollen blankets is trying his best to regulate his breathing in a way that makes him seem convincingly asleep.

It doesn’t work.

The second Elena peers around the door, she sees her son’s body tense, giving away his consciousness instantaneously. She smiles slightly; he is a bright boy, but still a boy yet.

“Svlad, I can see you’re awake, sweet one.”

Tousled auburn locks appear from under the blanket, followed by too-bright eyes and dimpled cheeks. “Sorry, mummy.”

“It’s alright,” Elena crosses the room, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. She reaches out to brush a hand across her son’s hair, smoothing it in a way only mothers can.

Svlad is their only child. Informed at eighteen she would never bear a child, Elena had long given up on ever being a mother, instead busying herself with the variety of nieces and nephews that came her way. It did not satisfy the longing, but there was no further option. David had refused to look at adoption, insisting their childlessness was “meant to be”.

And then, a miracle. He was, truly. Everyone doted on him – gifts were bestowed on the tiny baby in her arms from the veritable second he arrived. Hand-knitted teddy-bears, home-carved toy cars, a multitude of cardigans and jumpers in every colour imaginable. Svlad was everything she had ever wanted in a child; healthy, and hers.

“What are you still doing up, hmm? It’s far past bedtime for sleepy little boys.”

Svlad wriggles out of the blankets, and shuffles his way into his mother’s lap with ease. “I could hear you and Daddy fighting,” he mumbles, sounding every bit as miserable as Elena herself feels.

“I’m sorry, love. Did- Did you hear what it was about?” It’s a silly question. Of course he did. If he didn’t hear, he’d know anyway. To his credit, Svlad doesn’t try and lie.

“I was sitting on the stairs to hear.” He nibbles at his lip, and Elena doesn’t have the heart to admonish him. She strokes his hair gently instead, and for a moment, Svlad looks like he might cry. The expression is quickly replaced with one of resignation, albeit with a hint of hope. He reaches out a small hand, and pats her shoulder reassuringly. “It’s alright, mummy. America might be fun. I’ll get to see a plane.”

Elena steadfastly blinks back tears, and offers a wobbly smile. “I’m sure you will, sweet one.” The child in her lap yawns surreptitiously, attempting to disguise it with a pyjama-ed arm, and failing. She smiles softly, allowing herself a final affectionate squeeze, before nudging her son back into his bed. “Come on now, my love. School tomorrow.”

“No, I don’t think so, mummy. It’s going to snow.”

Elena laughs fondly, and shakes her head. “Nice try, sweet one. But it’s April. Long past the time for snow. Now get some rest.”

He is asleep the second she tucks the blanket up to his chin. This time, he’s not faking; she’s watched him fall asleep every night for eight years – the breathing pattern is as familiar to Elena as her own mind.

She stands, but is yet to move away, eyes fixed on her sleeping boy’s face. A rush of maternal love fills her chest, and Elena cannot prevent herself from leaning to press a soft kiss to his forehead. There is nothing wrong with her perfect boy, she tells herself, thumb carefully stroking his delicate cheekbone. She will do everything in her power to keep him safe. They will not take him. Not her boy.

* * *

The next day, Elena wakes early from a night of fitful, unsatisfying sleep. She makes herself a cup of tea, and sits at the table, moving to draw back the curtains to watch the sun rise.

The teacup hits the floor with a smash. She can do nothing but stare.

A thick layer of snow coats the road outside. The school is closed. It's still April.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all. 
> 
> Since Dirk seems so... well-adjusted for a child brought up in a lab, I wanted to look more at what his life would be like before leaving for America. Also, please excuse anything that seems slightly outdated; for some reasons, I wrote this as though Dirk grew up in WW2 as opposed to the 1980s haha.
> 
> You can see more from me on my [tumblr](http://hippocampers.tumblr.com), where I'm always happy to have a chat :) As ever, your feedback makes my days better! Lots of love x


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